The Question You Never Asked
by nicnac918
Summary: Even with the answer written right there in black and white, Jim still manages to make things difficult on himself. And for once, Spock is no help. (Maybe if someone would bother to tell him what was going on.)
1. Chapter 1

Officially, tomorrow would be Jim's first day aboard the Enterprise. The morning would start with his promotion from Commander to Captain down at Headquarters, then he would be beamed up to the Enterprise where he would be greeted by Captain Pike. Pike would formally introduce Jim to all his heads of departments, most of whom Jim had already known previously or had met in the past couple of days. After that, Jim would relieve Pike, who would return to Headquarters to receive his own promotion, and then Jim would, finally, be given a tour of his new ship by the Chief Science Officer and the new First Officer of the Enterprise, Lieutenant Commander Spock – whom Jim hadn't actually met yet, as the other man had been on a temporary assignment while the Enterprise was being prepared for her five-year mission, and had only arrived back to Earth earlier that day. Jim just supposed he was lucky that the majority of the crew wasn't due to show up until the day before the shakedown cruise in half a week's time, or else Jim might have been expected to give a formal address as the new Captain right away, delaying his tour of the Enterprise even further. Officially.

Unofficially, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, Scotty, was an old friend of Jim's, and was completely sympathetic to Jim's apprehension about his first introduction to the Enterprise being a guided tour. Not that Jim lacked faith in Spock's abilities, to the contrary Jim was quite excited to meet the other man, given his stellar record and the glowing recommendation that Pike had made. It was just that there was nothing so good for getting to know a place like a little free range exploring. So when Scotty had gone up to the Enterprise that day to continue his last check of everything to make sure they were ready to take off next Tuesday, he had stolen off to the transporter room for a few minutes, that had turned into a half an hour of Scotty talking Jim's ear off, to beam Jim up to see his new lady (" _our_ lady, and don't you be forgetting that once you become Captain, Jim").

The sneaking around was proving well worth it, even if Jim did feel vaguely guilty over the whole thing. The Enterprise was by far the best ship Jim had ever been on, and while he would admit to some bias, Jim thought it was entirely possible that she was the best ship in the whole fleet. And wandering all these empty halls had only gotten Jim even more excited to see the place once it was teeming with life. Though, the emptiness was working in his favor at the moment, keeping him from having to duck into broom closets every five minutes to avoid being caught out.

No sooner had Jim had that thought, than he heard voices coming had down the corridor and he had to do just that. He was lucky enough, at least, that the nearest doorway lead to a rec room rather than an actual broom closet: more space that way. As the voices drew closer, Jim began to be able to distinguish them from each other. There were two people, the first of whom Jim recognized as Ensign Johnson, an excitable new officer that had tracked Jim down two days ago to tell him how thrilled he was to be serving under 'the great James T. Kirk,' and to recite the laundry list of Jim's awards and accomplishments back at him. It had been an amusing interlude, to say the least.

But the second voice… Jim was certain he had never met the owner of that voice. He would have remembered the deep even tones, and the way they sent a thrill down his spine. In fact, as the voice got louder and more distinct, Jim felt an overwhelming urge to get a look at the person that the voice belonged to. Look, but don't touch because as (soon-to-be) captain, he wasn't allowed to touch anymore. Technically, Starfleet regulations allowed for sexual and/or romantic relationships between officers as long as all involved parties were within two ranks of each other, and there was reasonable proof that there had been no coercion on the part of the higher ranking officer(s), but Jim's own personal moral code limited him to his Chief Medical Officer, Piper, who Jim wasn't remotely interested in, and his First Officer, Spock, who was a Vulcan and therefore not remotely interested in Jim. So no more touching for Jim, but looking was harmless.

Jim started to maneuver himself, trying to figure out the best position to be able to see out the open doorway, without being too terribly obvious to the people walking past. As he was doing that, the sole of his boot caught on the floor, emitting a high-pitched squeak.

"Did you hear that, Commander?" Johnson asked, as Jim started looking for a place to hide.

"It was likely nothing, Mister Johnson. However, to be on the safe side, I will investigate. You may go ahead to the lab and I will join you shortly."

"But sir!"

"I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I will rejoin you within ten minutes; if I have not, then you may feel free to call in Starfleet security." Johnson must have still been waffling somewhat, because after a pause the voice followed his comment with a sharp "Dismissed, Ensign." This was followed by the sound of footsteps continuing down the hallway, which told Jim he was out of time.

Jim spared a last quick look around the room, but there were no other exits and, having already discarded under the table as both undignified and unlikely to be effective, no place to hide. Might as well face the music head on then.

His eyes met those of his pursuer, and Jim found himself thinking, quite sarcastically, 'of course this is how we meet each other for the first time.'

Spock, because the owner of the mysterious voice was none other than Jim's First Officer, raised one eyebrow. "Commander Kirk."

"Lieutenant Commander Spock," Jim returned.

"You are aware that you are not supposed to be aboard the Enterprise right now, correct?" Spock said.

"I'm aware. I just wanted a chance to look around the place before our official tour tomorrow," Jim said as charmingly as he could manage.

"Yes, Mister Scott said as much when I questioned his prolonged absence from engineering earlier." God damn it, Scotty. He was a good man, and ninety-nine percent of the time – one hundred if it had to do with engineering or not technically breaking the laws of physics – he excelled under pressure, but that other one percent… "He was quite insistent that this trip was necessary for you, emotionally," Spock continued.

"In that case, I'll try not to come down on him too hard for folding on me like a wet blanket," Jim joked.

"A wet blanket?" Spock asked.

"Just an expression," Jim said, waving the matter off.

Spock nodded, though Jim suspected it was more out of an acknowledgement of Jim's explanation than because he actually thought what Jim said made sense. In a fairness, Jim had never known wet blankets to be especially foldable. "If I may make a suggestion, sir?" Spock said.

"Of course. Mister Spock. That's what you're here for, after all."

"The next time you are struck with the urge to go somewhere you aren't supposed to be, you might want to try being a little quieter," Sock noted dryly.

Jim found himself biting back a laugh. No one had told him that Spock was _funny_. That wasn't going to make the next few weeks – Jim hoped to God it wouldn't take any longer than that – any easier. But then, Jim had already completely rejected any real chance of it being easy. "I'll take it under advisement," Jim responded wryly, unable to hold back the grin.

"Then, if you'll excuse me Commander, I need to get back to Ensign Johnson. I suspect that he is not going to wait the full minutes I suggested before calling security."

"You're probably right," Jim agreed. "Dismissed, Mister Spock."

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I look forward to making your acquaintance tomorrow, Commander Kirk."

This time Jim really let out a chuckle. "You too." Spock turned and walked away, and Jim, his hand unconsciously reaching up to press against his side, watched him go.

Well, damn.

Perhaps not surprisingly, later that evening Jim found himself reflecting back on his parents. Everyone who knew the both of them always commented on how much Jim took after his father, and Jim had to admit, they weren't completely wrong. Physically, the resemblance was astounding; Jim had even had a few girlfriends flip through photo albums only to mistake old pictures of his dad as being of Jim himself. They both had followed the same career trajectory from Starfleet Academy to eventually becoming a starship captain, though Jim couldn't see himself retiring young the way his father had, or at all really: he loved the stars too much. Even Jim's mother had been known to make comments about it, in particular Jim remembered an occasion right after she had heard Gary Mitchell's favorite teasing insult at the time, that Jim was a stack of books with legs, when Winona had let out a merry laugh and said 'like father, like son.' But if anyone were to ever ask Jim about it, he would say that he was just like his mother.

Long before the two of them met, Winona Davis had heard of George Kirk. The young man had been very popular among the ladies at Starfleet Academy back in those days because he was, quote, incredibly handsome, smart as hell, and completely unattainable – George had decided to swear off dating until after he graduated, to better focus on his studies. At the time, Winona's balance of work and play had tilted decidedly more toward the play side – so perhaps she and Jim weren't completely alike – and upon hearing the rumors, she had immediately dismissed George as likely being very dull.

That had all changed one day when Winona was in the library studying for a test she had the following day. She had heard a laugh, the kind of ringing clear laugh that made you want to befriend the person laughing it, had looked up to see George Kirk walking in with some of his friends and grinning, and that had been it for Ms. Winona Davis. Love at first sight. And she had known it was love for a fact, because at that same moment the spot on her arm that would one day be her soulmark had blazed with a pain like getting stabbed with a thousand tattoo needles – "Not that I would know what that feels like," Winona told her young sons, "because I've certainly never gotten a tattoo" – and quite suddenly it went from being nothing more than a vague line to reading in a clear if untidy scrawl 'George Kirk.'

When she saw that, Winona had stood up and marched straight… back home to put on a jacket to cover up her soulmark. "The nice thing about San Francisco," Winona always interjected at this point in the story, "is that you can wear long sleeves all year long, and no one looks at you funny." Once she was certain that no one could see the writing across her upper arm, Winona had gone back to the library, and _then_ marched straight up to George to introduce herself.

It had taken four months of friendship before Winona finally felt comfortable asking him out, and after that another two months to convince him that he was actually completely capable of dating and doing well in his classes at the same time. Finally, on the one month anniversary of their first date, Winona had, for the first time in public since that day in the library, worn a sleeveless top, to show George what she had known all along. She had immediate cause to regret her insistence that they meet at the restaurant that night rather than having George pick her up like he usually did because, nerves or no, it was a bit embarrassing to have her date stand up and strip his shirt off right in the middle of the dining area so he could show her the spot on the back of his shoulder where her name had been coming in clearer every day.

"I thought I was being romantic," George had grumbled, and Winona had tapped him on the cheek.

"It was very charming, dear."

"But I don't get it," Sam had protested. "Would it have just been easier on you mom if you had showed him your soulmark right away?"

George had laughed. "When have you ever known your mother to do things the easy way?"

"The hard way builds character," Winona had retorted. "I did it that way, Sam, because otherwise I wouldn't have ever been sure who your father was interested in, me or his soul mate."

Sam had scowled, and Jim, ever the loyal younger brother at that age, had scowled too. Really, his mother hadn't been making any sense; she was his dad's soul mate, so if George was interested in one, he was interested in the other. Still, the comment had stayed in the back of Jim's mind, taken out on occasion to be reexamined, resonating with him more and more each time he did.

Jim lifted his arm so he could look at his left side in the mirror. He frowned half in consternation and half in wonder as his fingers traced the flowing Vulcan script that had appeared with a pain like getting stabbed with a thousand tattoo needles – not that Jim would know what that feels like, because Jim had certainly never gotten a tattoo, especially not that one time he and Gary had been tremendously drunk on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet – when Jim had met Spock's eyes earlier that day and fallen head over heels in love.

Sometimes Jim really wished he wasn't quite so much his mother's son.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm disappointed in you, Jim," Gary said, placing his tray of food down across the table from Jim's and sliding into a chair.

"How's that?" Jim asked, already amused.

"I spent years, years Jimmy-boy, dragging you away from your books and teaching you to loosen up. Then we get sent on separate assignments just for a little while, and when I come back, you've fallen for the walking computer." Gary shook his head teasingly. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

Kirk blanched. Partially because he had been trying to keep it a secret, at least until Spock figured out that they were soulmates too, but trust Gary to figure it out, more or less, first. But mostly because he had been trying to keep it a secret, but trust Gary to start talking about it right in the middle of the mess. "Can we not talk about this here?"

"No one's going to eavesdrop on the captain," Gary said dismissively. "Besides, if you wanted to keep it a secret, maybe you should be a little less obvious about your pining."

"I'm not worrying about people eavesdropping, I'm worried about them accidently overhearing." Especially if the person in question had superhuman Vulcan hearing. "And I am not pining."

"I think I know what you look like when you're pining. You forget, I'm the one who introduced you to Carol," Gary said.

Jim gave him a dry look. "Given how that worked out, I wouldn't really say it was a point in your favor."

Gary winced at that. "Sorry, you're right. I guess all the time you spent teaching me not to put my foot in my mouth has gone to waste too," Gary said, smiling apologetically, and Jim found himself forgiving Gary's earlier transgression. The man was damned hard to stay mad at.

"It's fine," Jim assured him. "I actually heard from Carol not that long ago. They're both doing well." Jim could hear his voice go a bit wistful as he spoke. It was strange: he didn't miss Carol at all, and he never wanted kids, and yet every time she called to give him an abbreviated update on David…

Gary gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, that's good, right? And hey, I'm sure things will work out much better this time."

"Are you undertaking a project of some sort?" Jim and Gary looked up at Spock, who had apparently approached them unnoticed while they were talking, and Jim barely suppressed the urge to say 'I told you so,' to Gary. At least there was some comfort in the fact that Spock's question indicated he hadn't heard anything they had said before Gary's last comment.

A comfort that rapidly evaporated when Jim caught a glimpse of the mischievous look in Gary's eye. "Something like that, Commander Spock. Why don't you join us; there's an empty seat next to Jim."

Spock raised eyebrow seemed to imply that he was well aware of the empty seat, as well as the myriad of others available in Jim and Gary's immediate vicinity, but he did end up sitting down next to Jim. "May I inquire about your project, Captain?" he asked.

"I think Jim wants that to be a surprise, right Jim?" Gary said, a little too innocently.

"Yes, I am trying to keep it under wraps for now," Jim agreed giving Gary a pointed look. Gary remained completely unrepentant, which Jim had to admit was hardly a surprise.

"So Spock, I heard through the grapevine that you like to play 3D chess," Gary said, seemingly apropos of nothing. Seemingly, but Jim was on to him.

"I do. Do you play, Mr. Mitchell?"

"Not if I can possibly avoid it. That's why I was asking, as a matter of fact. Jim here loves to play, and I was hoping to find someone else he could bully into playing against him," Gary said. Which was a bald-faced lie: Gary had never played a single game of chess in his life, so far as Jim knew, and Jim had certainly never forced him to.

"I would be quite willing to play against you, if you would be amendable to it," Spock said to Jim. On the other hand, Jim had to admit, in his head, because Gary would be insufferably smug if Jim ever said it out loud, he couldn't argue with Gary's results.

"I would be very amendable to it," Jim said, smiling at Spock. Their eyes met and locked for a long moment…

A moment that as inevitably broken by Gary. "I'll just leave you two alone, shall I?"

"Don't be an ass, Gary," Jim rebuked mildly before turning to Spock. "Please don't mind Mr. Mitchell; he thinks he's funny."

Spock gave them a look like he suspected both of being crazy, but was too polite to admit it. Of course, Spock often seemed somewhat dubious of the human crew's antics, so Jim didn't take it to heart.

"What do the both of you think of our first mission?" Jim said, quickly grasping on a new topic before Gary could continue his less than subtle attempts to push Jim and Spock together. "Going beyond the edge of the galaxy is a bold way to start things off, isn't it?"

"You have to be bold if you want to get anything done. 'A faint heart never won a fair lady,'" Gary said, giving Jim a long look, peppered with little quick glances at Spock. Jim glared at him.

"It should prove a fascinating experience," Spock opinioned and Jim grinned.

"Quite right, Mr. Spock," Jim said. "Still, we'll have to be on our guard; who knows what could be waiting for us out there."

"You've got nothing to worry about, Captain, not so long as you've got your best flyer at the helm," Gary said.

"And I suppose that's you?" Jim said, teasing. "You know, you better watch your back. I hear Sulu's thinking of asking for a transfer from astro-physics to helmsman."

Gary frowned. "That's a bit of a career switch, isn't it?"

"Mr. Sulu studied both disciplines at Starfleet Academy, and to all accounts he is an excellent piolet," Spock informed him.

"See?" Jim said. "Sulu could be taking your job before you know it."

Gary smiled winningly at the both of them. "Never going to happen."

* * *

Jim laid out on his bunk staring unseeingly at the ceiling, and he could not cry.

He had known he was going to lose some good men and women on this voyage, and he had been prepared for it. After all, he'd lost people under his command before, though this was obviously the first time he'd done so as captain. Jim wondered if that was what made the difference this time, the fact of being captain. Or maybe it was because Gary hadn't died by the hand of some an enemy, but because Jim had been hunting him down to kill him – or, at least, to kill the thing that had taken Gary's place by the end. Or maybe it was a simple as Gary having been his friend, one of his closest, and it was always harder to lose a friend than a subordinate. Probably, Jim concluded, it was a mix of all three of those things, but especially the last.

The sound of knocking startled him, but Jim relaxed when he realized that it wasn't coming from the main entrance to his quarters, but from the door the bathroom that he shared with Spock. "Enter!" he called, and briefly entertained the notion that he should get up and make himself appear somewhat presentable, but he discarded the thought as quickly as it came. Even if he and Spock weren't what they were, or would be, to each other, as his First Officer Spock was bound to end up seeing Jim at his worse more than a few times over the course of their five year mission. No reason to put it off.

Spock walked in carrying a PADD, and while he certainly couldn't have been expecting Jim to be lying listlessly in his bunk, he showed no indication of surprise at the sight either. "Apologies, Captain. I had some personnel changes for your review, but it can wait until tomorrow if you prefer."

Jim laughed, and it sounded ugly and hollow even to himself. "I don't think I'm much good for anything tonight."

Spock nodded and Jim thought he would leave, but he lingered just inside the doorway for a few moments longer. "Jim," Spock began hesitantly. "If you would like… that is, I do not have much personal experience in the matter, but my understanding is that humans can find it helpful to talk about their feelings."

Despite the warm glow that cut through a bit of Jim's numbness at Spock's words, Jim shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, not now. Thanks, though."

This time Spock really did turn to leave, and suddenly Jim found himself calling him back. "Do you think you could stay? Just for a little while."

"Certainly," Spock said. He pulled the chair from Jim's desk up alongside the bed and sat down, his back ramrod straight. He looked, in Jim's estimation, adorable, but also incredibly awkward and Jim felt the faint stirrings of guilt.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Stay, that is," Jim said, and if he hated himself a bit for saying it, he would have hated himself even more if he hadn't. "It's hardly your job to hold the Captain's hand because he's upset."

Spock gave him a look that could almost be described as prim. "To the contrary, seeing to the Captain's wellbeing is one of the First Officers primary duties." Then, in a more natural tone he added, "I want to stay, if you wish me too."

Jim smiled, and if it was small, it was no less real for all that. "Thank you."

The silence was easier to bear with Spock there, but it still pressed down on Jim, until he felt he should be gasping for breath. "You were on a research mission before this, weren't you? Tell me about it," Jim asked.

"Is there anything in particular you were interested in?" Spock responded, unfazed by Jim's sudden request.

"Nothing in particular. Whatever you found fascinating."

"It was all fascinating," Spock said reproachfully, but then he did as Jim had asked.

After the first sentence or two, Jim stop paying any mind to the individual words, instead just absorbing the sound of Spock's voice as he watched his friend and, though Spock didn't know it yet, the other half of himself. Slowly, Jim's gaze dropped from Spock's face down to his left side, within easy reach. Jim knew it was improbable that Spock's soulmark would be in the same place as Jim's own, but Spock's heart would be located in that very same spot; if Jim could just feel that steady thrumming beneath his fingertips, a tangible reminder that no matter what had transpired that day, Jim wasn't yet alone in the universe, and things could have been far worse, then…

But that would be too much, too soon. So instead, Jim closed his eyes and let the cadence of Spock's voice wash over him.

If at any point Spock noticed the tears that began to slide down Jim's cheeks, he was kind enough not to comment on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his shortness of breath and the fact he was nearly drenched in sweat, Jim adjusted the controls on his treadmill to just a bit faster. He had spent the last week burying himself in work, but as of this afternoon he was officially caught up with, and even ahead on, all his paperwork, and if he tried to schedule himself another shift today, Bones would be breathing down his neck. With no work to offer a distraction Jim had tried to turn to physical exertion to drown out his thoughts. At the very least, it might exhaust him beyond the point of dreaming, so he wouldn't have to yet again relive the moment his soul mate had turned to him and said, in no uncertain terms, that he was ashamed to be Jim's friend.

Jim cranked up the speed even higher.

"Good evening, Captain," Uhura greeted as she hopped up on the treadmill beside his, starting it up at an easy jog.

"Lieutenant," Jim responded.

Uhura peered over at the settings on Jim's treadmill, then shot him a look that was two parts impressed, and one part suspicious. "That's quite a work out."

After a second's thought, Jim turned down the speed of his treadmill to match Uhura's – exhausting himself clearly wasn't working, so maybe a little social interaction would. "I've been a bit busy with work this past week, and now I'm trying to make up for lost time," Jim offered as an explanation. "And how have you been, Miss Uhura?"

"Fine, thank you," she responded. She paused for a moment, then added, "Though, if I'm being honest, I'm feeling a little let down at the moment."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jim asked.

"Maybe," Uhura said. "Do you know Ensign Cheryl Miller?"

"Of course; she transferred over from the Columbia the same time I did. How's she doing?"

"She's just fine. The only reason I bring her up is because I was talking to her before we started our mission, about what it was like serving under you."

"All good things, I hope?" Jim said, keeping his tone light and teasing to make it clear that he didn't really expect an answer. He tried to be the type of commanding officer that people enjoyed serving under, but Jim was well aware that he wasn't perfect, and he wouldn't begrudge anyone who needed to complain to let off a little steam, even if they were complaining about him.

"All good things," Uhura agreed with a light smile. "Specifically, she told me that one of the best things about serving under James Kirk is that he is very diligent about going to the gym, but somewhat less diligent about wearing a shirt when he does so." She gave his sweaty t-shirt a pointed look, and for the first time, Jim caught the mischievous glint in the corner of her eye.

The chuckle escaped Jim before he could stop it, and his lips quirked up in an amused grin. "I have been trying to be more diligent of late," he told her with mock-graveness that he doubted was the least bit convincing.

"Pity that," Uhura quipped back, and Jim chuckled again.

"You can tell Ms. Miller thanks from me, though I doubt my ego needed the extra stroking."

"Maybe not, but it got you to smile, didn't it? I've been missing that this past week," Uhura said.

And just like that, the smile was gone again. "Have I been that obvious?"

"Not at all. In fact, I doubt anyone's even really noticed," Uhura assured him. In response Jim gave her a look that quite clearly said that she had apparently noticed, or else they wouldn't even be having this conversation. "I'm your Chief Communications Officer, Captain," Uhura said, with the tones of one who was explaining something that really should be self-evident. "And there's a lot more to communication than just words."

"As long as the rest of the crew doesn't think their captain has been moping about," Jim said, though that suddenly seemed like a very likely scenario.

"Almost everyone has been at least a little out of sorts since Psi 2000," Uhura assured him. "I'm not sure what it was you got up to, but it can't have been worse than Christine. Poor thing nearly had a breakdown when she told me about it after."

"Why, what happened?" Jim asked automatically, before realizing it probably wasn't Uhura's place to tell him. "Never mind. I'm sure she wants to keep it private."

"No offense meant Captain, but you're probably the last person she wants to know what happened," Uhura agreed. She paused for a moment before adding, "Well, second to last, but since the other person is the one it happened to, more or less, that's a bit of a loss cause."

Jim winced a little. He still couldn't begin to guess exactly what happened, but he could certainly empathize with the idea of saying the exact wrong thing to the exact wrong person. "My sympathies, regardless. I hope she's feeling a bit better now, at least."

"She is. I think talking about it helped her a lot," Uhura said. She hesitated, feeling, perhaps, that she was overstepping her bounds with what she said next, but she continued with it anyway. "It might help you too; I'd be happy to listen, of course, but I'm sure Dr. McCoy or Mister Spock would be willing to lend an ear too."

Jim somehow managed not to wince again. Talk about saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. "Thank you for the thought, but I didn't actually do anything all that embarrassing. I did ask Mister Spock if he would go with me on a walk on the beach, but I don't think he'll hold that against me." Jim had also rambled on about soul mates some, but nothing too specific, and nothing that was liable to make Spock draw any conclusions. "I actually wasn't so concerned with my behavior as I was with something I learned during that… episode, we'll call it."

Uhura raised an eyebrow at him – Jim rather suspected she had been getting lessons from Spock while they claimed to be practicing music. "A lot of the crew was pretty intoxicated when all that was going on; I would recommend you take anything that was said with a grain of salt."

"Maybe, but what's that old Earth saying? _In vino veritas_?"

Uhura pursed her lips. "You know, just because a saying is an old one, that doesn't mean it's a good one."

"You don't think people are more honest when they're drunk?" Jim asked, curious. It seemed a common sense sort of truth to Jim, but of the two of them, Uhura was the expert on communication, and Jim hadn't gotten to where he was by not listening to his officers.

"I think people ae less inhibited when they're drunk, which might lead to honesty, and it might lead to running down the halls shirtless and challenging people to duels," Uhura said dryly, and Jim chuckled. "In any case, there's a difference between _a_ truth and _the_ truth, and alcohol is much more likely to give you the former than the latter. Personally, I prefer a different saying, one my mother used to tell me when I was little. 'It'll all be alright in the end. If it's not alright, then it's not the end.'"

Jim found himself grinning. "You know, I think my mom might have told me that one a time or two as well."

Uhura smiled back at him. "I thought she might have. If I may, Captain, I'd advise you try to get the whole story behind whatever it is you heard the other day. If you can't, then don't worry about it too much because pretty soon this whole thing is going to blow over. Why, I even bet that Lieutenant Riley might even be brave enough to stick his head out of his quarters any day now."

That earned an actual laugh from Jim. "Maybe when he does, you could give him a few singing lessons."

"That'll only encourage him," Uhura responded.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes after that. Jim found himself wishing he could take her up on her offer to talk; maybe she'd have some insight into the matter. At any rate, she was certainly Spock's closest friend on the ship besides Jim himself, and possibly McCoy (Jim still hadn't come down whether Spock and McCoy's constant bickering came from a place of genuine incompatibility or was a sign of deep respect and camaraderie, but at the moment he was leaning toward a little of both), which would give her a better vantage point on the problem than most. But Jim wanted Spock to be the first to know about the two of them being soul mates – though if Spock didn't figure it out soon, Bones was going to know before him; Jim could only duck taking a physical for so long – somewhat limiting Jim's ability to talk about the situation with others. Somehow he didn't think 'I have a friend who has a Vulcan as a soul mate' was going to fool anyone.

Though, there was another way he could get her opinion on the matter, in general, if she didn't mind sharing. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Jim said.

Uhura smiled at him. "Of course not, Captain. But that doesn't mean I'm going to answer."

"Fair enough," Jim said, giving a nod of his head in acknowledgement. "I was just wondering if you had met your soul mate yet."

"If I have, then I haven't fallen in love with him yet," Uhura said. Then she frowned a bit to herself and added, "Or at least, I don't think I have. My soulmark is on my back, and to be honest I don't check it all that often."

"Really?" Jim asked. Before his soulmark had come in, it felt like he was checking it every day, sometimes even multiple times a day, waiting for it to become clearer. Even now that it he knew what it said, he still found his eyes straying there, or his hand smoothing against it, just to reassure himself that it was there and real. Granted, his soulmark was in a much more accessible place than Uhura's apparently was, but even still. "Though, I suppose if it had come in you would have felt something."

Uhura shrugged. "Maybe, but my family has something of a history of being a bit slow and soft when it comes to falling in love. My mother's is on her back too, and she had no idea that it had come in as my dad's name until he saw it and told her. They had known each other for years at that point, so it's hard to say how slowly it had been in coming in, but the point is she never felt even a twinge from it that whole time."

"Everyone's different I guess," Jim said and Uhura made a noise of agreement. They jogged side by side in silence for a few minutes, before Jim found himself unable to hold back. "I just don't understand. How can you be so blasé about your soulmark?"

"Well, worrying about it isn't going to make him show up any faster, is it?" Uhura said, which Jim had to acknowledge was a good point. "Besides, if I'm too busy looking for the perfect guy, I might completely overlook the right guy when he comes knocking at my door. The way I see it, he'll show up when he does, or he won't if he doesn't. Either way, I've got a good career, supportive friends, a proud family, and plenty of time to practice my singing, so I'm pretty happy with my life."

For a few moments, Jim found himself quite unable to do anything but blink a few times in surprise as he thought about what Uhura just said. "You know, Miss Uhura," Jim said after a minute, "you may very well be the most sensible person I have ever met."

"Well, I could have told you that," Uhura said with a saucy smile, and Jim found himself laughing.

It was a testament to the positive effect of their conversation that Jim didn't notice Spock approaching until he had very nearly reached Jim and Uhura's treadmills, and that once Jim did notice him, he no longer felt disappointment churning in his gut. Well, he still felt it – there was only so much even an epiphany could be expected to do all at once – but it was greatly lessened from what it had been earlier that day. Uhura was right; Spock would come around in his own way an own time, and even if he never did, it didn't make Jim any less lucky that he had managed to find this amazing man and bring him, even in a small way, into his life.

"Your emotional state has improved, Captain," Spock observed in that blunt way of his, and Jim shot another look at Uhura.

"Of course Mister Spock noticed. I thought that was a given," Uhura said.

Jim shook his head, more at himself than her. "It probably should have been. I am feeling a bit better, thank you," Jim said to Spock. "Are you here to get a work out in?"

Spock didn't actually call Jim out on how very inane a question that was, but his raised eyebrow very clearly communicated it was something that he would have said, were he a less well-mannered individual. "Indeed, I just finished going through some _Suus Mahna_ forms in one of the private rooms." And Jim had missed it? Damn. "I was wondering if you would be amendable to a chess match after you were done here."

Jim couldn't have been more shocked if Spock had dropped on one knee and proposed right there in the middle of the gym. Of course, that was mostly because if anything that improbable happened, Jim would have to assume Spock had been possessed by some incorporeal alien being, and that sort of thing wasn't that uncommon, unfortunately. But it was still a bit of a surprise, Spock asking him for a game of chess. Jim was sure that Spock enjoyed, or derived satisfaction from, to state it the Vulcan way, their chess games together, but Spock had never attempted to initiate one before – at least, not after that first time when Gary had more or less backed him into it. Jim just assumed that it wasn't the Vulcan thing to do, deliberately seeking out social interaction for no purpose other than to be social, and yet here Spock was, asking Jim to play chess.

"I'd love to. In fact," Jim turned his treadmill off and hopped down, "I think I can go ahead and call it quits now. I need to shower off and get changed first, but we could meet in twenty minutes? My quarters?" Jim was taking a little bit of a risk there, as they had only ever played in the rec rooms before, but if Spock was going to bring them a step closer by issuing the invitation for the first time, then Jim thought he should also have license to increase their level of intimacy. Not that two people sharing a game of chess in one of their quarters was terribly intimate in a traditional human sense, but Spock was Vulcan and Jim was fast learning that intimacy with him was gained in the smallest of baby steps.

"That would be agreeable," Spock said, giving no indication that he found any significance in the change in venue.

"Great. You're going back to your quarters to change as well, I presume? I'll walk with you."

"Logical, given our quarters are next door to each other," Spock noted and Jim grinned.

Before he left with Spock, Jim turned back to Uhura. "Thank you for the conversation. It was… enlightening."

"Anytime," Uhura said warmly.

When he reached the doorway out to the hall, Jim glanced over his shoulder back at Uhura again. In the less than a minute it had taken him and Spock to cross the room, she had turned the speed up on her treadmill significantly. The logical assumption, Jim supposed, was that she had been warming up earlier while they had been chatting, and now she was going into full swing. And yet, something in Jim's gut was telling him that he had been quite thoroughly ambushed.

Somehow, he didn't mind.


End file.
